Thud Thud
by alleycat12
Summary: It's a small world after all. When Lena, a lone survivor, is found by the group, she realizes just how small the world is.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so here is the deal. This is BN (Before Negan) so that the character can get a feel of the whole group and participate in the Negan reaction. Without further ado, enjoy! (1 AM, people, give me some slack)**

…

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

My slow footsteps on the pavement echo in the silence, occasionally accompanied by a chorus of birdsong or cicadas chirping. I squint up at the sky, letting my eyes adjust to the harsh sunlight. The blue is overwhelming, but gives me a clear idea of the time. 4 in the afternoon.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

Every noise makes my heart nearly leap out of my thinned body. In a world where death decides to come at you in the form of the risen dead, any sound ignored could mean the end of your life. A squirrel leaping from one branch to another is enough to make me gasp, but it's something you just have to go through.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

I check my ammunition in the bag on my side. 12 bullets left. I don't like to use the gun, the noise attracting more roamers than necessary, so I tend to use the knife my father gave me. The blade isn't that large, but it does the job, so no complaining comes from me. If the time comes for me to use the gun, I'll save the last bullet for me. Hey, I tried, but I refuse to be killed at the hands of one of _them._

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

I slow, exhaustion kicking in. Where am I going? Wherever I end up. Right now, nothing can stay "home". I just try to stay off of the main roads and avoid cities. If it's this bad in the country, I can't imagine a place that had ten times the population of this endless greenery.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

Raspy growling comes from behind me and I swing around, bringing my blade down into the first roamer, before shoving the body towards the other, forcing it to back up. I then sink the knife deep into the brain, through rotting flesh and fragile bone. _71\. 71. 71._ The number runs through my head and I slowly fall to my knees beside the corpses, a neutral expression on my features. I absentmindedly run my middle finger over the tally-mark scars on my pointer finger. I lift my blade and add a seventh. It's small, but the cut brings a tear out of my eye.

 _Thud. Thud. Thud._

I was at with a girl at the start of this. Her name was Ari. She was ruthless, in an odd way, bringing one roamer after the other to the ground. She had no remorse, but she could be very kind. She saw me on the street fighting a group of the things. It was obvious that I wasn't going to be crowned winner if the event went on any further. Ari came in, guns blazing and saved my sorry butt. She was remarkably beautiful, warm brown skin seemingly glowing in the hot sun. Two French braids ran down to her shoulder blades and she had an almost mystical, cold look in her eyes.

 _I stare with wide eyes, still trying to process what had happened. My brain ignores the putrid scent burning my nose. The girl stands in front of me with an impatient look on her face._

" _Well? Are you coming? Those shots weren't exactly quiet and more are coming from over there." She points a slender finger down the street to a horde coming our way. "Stay and die now, or come and die later." I nod and we begin to sprint in the opposite direction._

She was an interesting person. She once killed a man that was trying to take our stuff and didn't look back once. I thought that she was all guts of steel until one day when I saw her cutting her finger. That was when I noticed the tally-marks. Now, I copy the idea, counting roamers that I've killed so I can live with it.

I glance up, shading my eyes and studying the road before me. Nothing but hills. Hills and trees and…A house? I lurch to my feet and nearly trip.

I run. I run with a fire in my mind, my heart pounding with an uncontrollable force. My lungs burn, but it's worth it. The sheer joy of watching the white house get closer and closer is amazing. A snarl comes from my left and I turn, hurling the blade and landing it straight in the forehead of the roamer.

" _I missed. Daddy, when will I ever need this?" Disappointment fills my voice and Daddy presses his hand gently into my shoulder, leaving to retrieve the knife._

" _You never know when you might need this. It's good to know. Here, step closer and keep your eye trained on where you want it to land." He pulls my arm up and encourages me to throw. The knife lands with a_ **thud** _at the edge of the target and my heart lifts with pride._

I can still recall the time when I showed my talent to Ari.

" _Where the devil did you learn that?" Ari lifts an eyebrow in surprise._

" _I…I used to play darts with my uncle."_

She never did ask about it, but I knew she wasn't trusting of my story.

 _Thudthudthudthud_

Fast. Faster. I push myself harder until I'm sure any step further will kill me. I slow, my heart racing almost as fast as I was running. My breath comes in and out 90 miles an hour and I begin to cough. Even though my lungs throb, the running came with a reward. The cool, dewy grass touches my shoes and I grin at the large white house in the yard before me. The mailbox besides me reads _"Olsen"_. A family used to live here and I plan on taking it on as my own territory. A flash of guilt races through my mind, but I shake it away. After all, the chances that this family is still living are low.

I glance back to the vast green, scanning for any roamers. I only see one shuffling towards me. It gets nearer and bumps into the white fence right in front of me. I push a stray lock of blonde hair from my eyes and put my full attention on the walker. It's bloody stomach presses against the wood, staining it a dark red. Its deformed fingers reach for me, straining for its next meal on legs.

 _Sorry, buddy. Not happening._

I sink my knife into the thing's head until a disturbingly satisfying squelch makes the roamer fall. I heave a sigh and look for any more. Upon finding none, I unlatch the lock of the fence and push my weight onto it. It swings open on creaky hinges and I cringe. If the roamers didn't hear me before, they definitely know I'm here now.

One step inside.

Two steps.

I laugh with triumph, slamming the gate shut and running farther onto the property. My faded black Transport bookbag slaps against my back as my feet pound the earth. An inclined hill slows me down and I smile, looking over what appears to be a farm. Despite the overgrown grass and dirty water in the pond, it's shockingly beautiful. To my left, the house sits, an unkempt flower garden growing wild with weeds to its front. It has two massive stories with a front porch adorned in old rocking chairs. To the right of me, a vegetable garden grows.

Grew.

I turn my attention back to the aged house and take a few steps closer. The white paint is peeling and the window pane is thick with dust. I reach for the doorknob and begin to turn it, but then stop myself.

 _Wait._

I rap my knuckles hard against the door and lean in to listen. 10 seconds later, the sound of growling makes me jumps slightly.

 _God, let's hope it's only one._

I push against the door and it pushes back, heavy with over a year of no use. When it cracks open, a large hand shoots out and makes a grab for my arm. Its thick fingers dig into my skin and I wince, pulling the door back and stabbing at the arm. I hear a crack and the hand falls to the ground. I push my weight against the door and jump back once it flies open, hitting the wall. The roamer, well fed to say the least, hobbles forward. I dodge its one hand and begin a sort of a dance. "You the only one?" My voice comes out hoarse from my time of silence. I grab its shoulders and push it back. It comes once more. "You do realize that you things killed my only friend in this?" I lean in and finish it off.

" _Come on!" Ari motions for me to follow her. I step out from behind the tree and run alongside her. I pant as we sprint through a clearing in the woods, gaining distance from the horde that was on the road. I glance back and gasp at the dozen roamers closing in on us._

" _Ari!"_

" _I know." Her voice is stoic and I gulp, pushing harder. We tear through the grass and stop at a huge fence, too high to climb. Prison border. Ari cusses under her breath and turns around, eyeing our options. One, run until we either die or get rid of the roamers…Or…_

" _Well, it was nice knowing you, Blondie." She gives me a gentle look and my stomach churns. Oh, no._

" _What are you-,"_

 _She hands me her pistol and nods. "It's got six bullets. Make 'em count."_

" _No. No, you can't. We can get away" My voice shakes with fear and the tears burn my eyes._

" _Don't worry. I ain't dyin' at the hands o' them." She begins to back up, getting sickeningly close to the roamers. She gives me a goodbye, a single salute, and lifts her knife._

" _NO!"_

 _She falls, and I look away as the putrid creatures kneel down to eat her corpse. She wanted me to get away, her being the diversion._

" _Sorry," my voice comes out in a low whisper. "Plans have changed."_

 _I lift her gun, my hands shaking and a let out a yell, shooting to take out as many roamers as I can._

 _Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

 _I throw the empty gun to the grass and lift my knife, making one fall to the ground. I kick the second in the stomach and it stumbles backwards into another. The two fall and I kill both. 3 more. I grab one by the neck and dig the knife into the skull. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. A hand grabs my shoulder and I elbow the source. The blow is gives me enough time to whirl around and finish it off. One more. The one that got the first bite into Ari. I push it on its back and straddle its stomach, stabbing the head repeatedly. I turn the knife over to his stomach, right where he bit into Ari, and give him the biggest incision of his life…Over and over again. Great surgery, Doc._

 _I finally gather up the nerves to look at Ari. She lays on her back, eyes wide, frozen in the eternal panic of her last second. I let out a shaky breath and stand on my wobbling legs, walking over to her. Her white sweater is stained a horrible red and I cringe. I can almost hear her voice lecturing me._

" _ **I said make them count. Those didn't count, idiot."**_

" _Yes, they did. Yes, they did." I finally let the tears fall, sobbing mixing with the sound of the cool wind. I cup her face and breathe deeply, before pulling her up by her shoulders into a sitting position leaning against me. I gingerly remove her leather bag off of her and sit it in my lap. I grab her soft blanket from inside and spread it out on top of her, stopping at her chin. I take my index and middle fingers and close her eyes, giving her a much more peaceful look. Looking back into her bag, I take out a white slip of paper. She snagged it when we raided a stationary store and claimed that we might need it sometime._

 _I look around, hoping for a stick or something and am not disappointed when I find one to the left of Ari. I dip the end in the blood of the last roamer and begin to write._

 _ **Here lies Ari, the best protector and friend I've had. She was tough and sharpened me, treating me like a person and not some kind of child. I survived because of her.**_

 _I look back up and empty the few contents of her bag into my larger one and stand. "Hold up." I lean down and pick up Ari's gun, setting it on her stomach. That gun was her life. Her mother had given it to Ari when she died a year before the fall of humanity. She deserves to rest with it. I sigh and begin looking for wildflowers. After walking for a few minutes, I find a bunch. I smile and gather them, heading back to Ari's body._

" _Sorry. You never got a proper funeral. I hope this makes up for it. Thank you." I swallow a sob and begin to sing. Ari had told me her favorite song late one night and I intend to honor her._

" _Carry on my wayward son,_

 _There'll be peace when you are done." My voice cracks, but I hold back the tears._

" _Lay your weary head to rest,_

 _Don't you cry no more." I hold back the next line, thinking that she'll jump right up and slap me for thinking her dead. Nothing._

" _Once I rose above the noise and confusion,_

 _Just to get a glimpse behind this illusion_ _ **."**_ _I shudder at the memory of her telling stories of the life she had before this, before Hell decided it was bored down there and wanted more space. Her mother died due to a chronic illness. Nothing to be helped, but treatment was expensive and Ari's father blamed her mother._

" _I was soaring ever higher,_

 _But I flew too high." She overshot things. She was skilled, no doubt, but she would always find excuses to cut every limb off of every walker she killed. Today, she went too far. Too far, even for her._

" _Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man," 'You don't get it' is what I would tell her every time she criticized me for crying over a death. She never got it._

" _Though my mind could think, I still was a mad man,"_ _ **"Come on, we don't need to. We're ok." She looked at me in defiance and took the roamer's foot clean off. She sticks it in her bag.**_

" _ **We need it."**_

" _I hear the voices when I'm dreaming," She always talked in her sleep. Whether it was a simple 'no' to a 'stop it', she would have the same terror in her eyes. When she woke, though, she always felt better. I felt guilty. She always got less sleep than me and when I talked to her about it, she would brush it off with a very subtle, "Shut it, Cornwad."_

" _I can hear them say,_

 _Carry on my wayward son,_

 _There'll be piece when you are done," "_ _ **I'm just waiting for death. Then, everything will be better. Whether or not there's this Heaven, it can always be better than this. If I go to Hell…well, I'm already used to it."**_

 _I continue the song, numbly ripping a small chain off of her neck and shuffling away. The skies darken, but I ignore it. Now I am on my own, alone in this sucky place called reality. Go me._

I blink, tears begging to fall at the memory. I look back up to the door. It's open and nothing dead seems to be walking out with deadly intent, so that's a plus. I clear my throat and stand, bringing my knife to the ready. Once my slender form reaches the door frame, I examine what looks like a living room. The couches are covered in a thick layer of dust and the wallpaper is fading. Other than that, nothing is too horridly messed up, which is good. I tread lightly on the wood through an opening to another room. A kitchen. I smile weakly and race to a set of cupboards. I say a thousand prayers to whatever's up there to give me some food. Maybe a can of beans or even dog food. Man, Alpo sounds really good right now.

No, I was never crawling on the ground screaming for food. I had enough. Sure, it was heavy, and sometimes I would go to sleep hungry because I'd ration it, but I was never dying.

I rip open one of the cupboards and frown. Nothing but a dead fly. I check another one, smiling gently at the small can of peas. I swipe it from the shelf and try another. "Yes!" I yell at the shelf chock full of various foods. Who cared if they were out of date?

I sit on the floor, ignoring the dirt, and pry open the can of peas. The smell hits my nose and I start shoveling it down my throat with one hand. Oh, God. It's heavenly. I sigh, my hand hitting the bottom of the can. I stand and dust myself off. Time to scope out the rest of the house.

I cover the bottom floor, finding a bathroom and master bedroom. I glance at the stairs. Two at a time, I fly, opening door after door. I run into another bathroom and freeze. A mirror is hanging on the wall. Do I even want to see what I look like? Well, curiosity killed the cat.

I bend down and look, peering into the glass. My stringy blonde hair falls in my face and I frown at the intense grime on my skin. My lips at chapped and blood covers my cheek. Despite this, my eyes hold a light that I'm sure wasn't there before now. I grin, feeling safe for the first time in my life. Perhaps being alone isn't that bad. Nobody to bother you, no extra mouth to feed…yeah. Alone is better.

I sigh, standing and scoping out the other rooms. Other than one surprise roamer, nothing major happens. Oh yeah, I find a bed. A bed! Of course, I slap the sheets until I'm sure that the dust won't suffocate me and lay down, asleep before my head hits the pillow. One thought runs through my head before I'm fully gone.

 _Major score._

…..

 **Yay! Don't worry, the good stuff's coming. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back! …. I guess that's it.**

… **..**

"Dad! Wait! Can I come?" Carl yells out with his arm resting on the side of the car. Rick rolls down the window and looks uncertain, but Sasha answers the boy herself, waiting in the passenger seat.

"Sure. Hop in the back."

Carl smiles brightly and nods his head, throwing open the door and sitting down in the torn leather seat. Up in the front, Rick casts an angry glance at the woman beside him. Sasha shrugs, hiding a smirk. "What? The more, the merrier." Rick grunts and motions for Eugene to open the gate and the car lurches into motion.

It's a standard run, nothing too risky, but Rick's father instincts still wouldn't let him except that.

Miles of land pass and the sun beats down on the car. Nothing stands out as unusual, nothing that wasn't there last week. As a three-way turn comes up, Carl leans to the front of the car, peering at the road on the left. "Hey, Dad? What's down there?" Rick follows his son's gaze and frowns lightly. Sasha leans forward squinting as she speaks.

"We never went that way. Since the town is the other way, we just relied on it." She settles back into the seat and raises an eyebrow. "I say we check it out."

After a moment of inner battle, Rick sighs and turns left, preparing himself for either two things. A horde or miles of nothing.

As the truck travels down the long strip of asphalt, trees zoom by, along with the occasional mile-marker and walker. Carl's head hangs out the window, his hair blown out of his face by the rushing wind. Sasha busies herself by sharpening her knife and occasionally letting her arm hang out of the window. The sun lights up her eyes and warms her rich brown skin, mixing with the wind and reminding Sasha of summer air in the country.

A half-hour passes with nothing to show but an expanse of green. Rick stops the car, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Sun's about to go down." He peers to each side of the Chevy. "Oh, well." Rick starts the vehicle again and begins a U-turn, when Carl shouts from the back seat.

"Dad! Wait! A house!" Carl point to a farm house sitting up the road, pretty and white in the lazy afternoon sun. Interest peaked, Rick backs up and slowly approaches the house. The lawn is overgrown and place looks untouched, yet Rick feels uneasy. For all he knows, the place could be overrun with walkers on the inside.

The house is a two-story, with a barn behind it. It reminds Rick of the Greene's house, shockingly so. The group gets out of the car and walks up to a white fence. A walker lays behind it, flesh sliding off its emotionless face. Sasha raises her blade to take it out, but realizes it's already gone. She looks back up and gives Rick a skeptical look, who returns the expression. Carl sighs and pushes through, unlatching the gate and marching inside.

"Carl!" Rick yells, following his son onto the property. Sasha catches up with the two and takes Rick's other side, eyes alert. They climb the steps to the porch and find yet another walker, who looks a bit more sloppily killed. Sasha peers into the window and looks back at Rick. The presses one pointer finger to her mouth and the other to the window sill, which has a clear finger line in the heavy dust. Rick furrows his brows and sighs, which is followed by him shoving open the door. The hinges creak and the group freezes, listening intently for any activity. "Okay," Rick says quietly, "Carl, you check out the bottom floor. Sasha and I will get the top floor." Carl nods and darts into what looks like a kitchen and Sasha follows Rick up the stairs. As Carl walks into the kitchen, he crinkles his nose at the smell coming from the dead refrigerator against the wall. His hand finds the knob of a set of cabinets and is sorely disappointed when only a blanket of dust is to show. The same goes for a few more, before opening one to an apocalypse jackpot. Canned foods line the shelves, labels faded with age, and Carl grins. To his left, completely unnoticed, is a small can of peas hidden behind a bowl of rotten fruit.

Above him, Sasha shakes the knob of a door and pushes inside, coming to a bathroom. Aside from snagging a few small bottles of shampoo, nothing is to show for the room. She works her way down the hall, nerves running wild at the absence of the walkers. There should be at least one here. That only means that more danger is here. A person. The group had never been too fortunate with people. As the last room comes up, Sasha sighs. "Alrighty, then." The door opens on silent hinges and Sasha's heart drops. A girl who looks just under adult years lay wrapped in ivory sheets, cheeks sunken in and yellow rings under her closed eyes. Wisps of blonde hair fall onto her forehead and frame her cheeks, with a small number of freckles dusted across her nose. A bruise transitioning from blue to a rich purple sits on her arm and her hand grips a small knife.

After a moment of staring, Sasha finds her voice. "Hey, Rick? You might want to get in here!" Her attention turns back to the girl laying on the bed, sound asleep.

Heavy footsteps approach and Rick's tall form comes in, weapons drawn to the ready. At the sight of the girl wrapped in old sheets, confusion fills his eyes and then surprise. He brings a shaky hand to his forehead. "Oh, God." His voice is, for the first time in a long time, weak. He steadies himself and approaches her, reaching for her arm. "Hey. Hey, wake up." He begins to shake her thin body, making her stir just a bit. Her eyes make slits and then widen. She draws her knife, bringing it up into a threatening position. Rick backs up quickly, dropping his gun. "Whoa! Wait! We aren't gonna hurt you. We just-,"

The girl pushes herself back, her body held up by a slim arm, the other holding her knife out. "I don't want trouble. There's food downstairs. Take what you want and leave please." Her eyes are shut tight and her voice holds fear, her blonde locks covering her cowering face.

"Dad, what's going on?" Carl runs to the threshold, a puzzled look on his features, which then mimic his father's previous surprise. At the voice, the girl's body loses the tension, opening her grey eyes. Her voice, full of emotion, quivers.

"Carl?"

"LenaRin." Carl's one eye is wide and full of tears. He jogs to the bed and wraps his toned arms around her, feeling almost every rib. A small smile plays on LenaRin's face, but then falls, replaced with a uniform look. A steady hand pushes the boy away and she raises her chin.

"Like I said. There's food downstairs. Take what you want and go." Her voice breaks at the end and she looks away, studying the suddenly interesting picture of birds in flight on the wall. Rick sits on the bed, a caring look on his face. "LenaRin, we have a place. There's people. Electricity, food, running water. Protection." LenaRin bites her lip, shaking her head.

"That's what I'm scared of. I'll lose what I learned out here. I'm not what I was before. I'm not going with you." LenaRin's word hold finality and her body settles back into the fluffy pillows to emphasize, which only angers Carl.

"You're alone!"

"I know!" LenaRin snaps at Carl with a voice like acid. Rick shoots his son a warning look before turning back to the girl.

"Please, LenaRin. You're safer with us." Rick reaches out to cup LenaRin's check, but she slaps his hand away.

"I'm fine on my own."

"Are you?" Sasha cuts in, cocking her head. "We aren't going to make you do anything, but we're gonna give you some strongly advised help. You won't lose it. I promise." LenaRin studies the woman's face, the features, her eyes, and looks down.

"Fine."

Rick smirks at the success and claps. "Awesome. You won't regret it and if you want to leave when you get there, we won't stop you. Like I said earlier, the sun's going down. We better head out… Now what was that about the food downstairs LenaRin?"

…

Rick glances back in the truck, watching his son and LenaRin. LenaRin sits next to Carl, asleep. Her quiet breaths are slow and relaxed. Carl has his hand protectively situated on top of the girl's, similarly asleep. Sasha follows Rick's train of sight.

"So, who's the girl?"

Rick clears his throat and turns his head back to the road, eyes fixed on the setting sun before the car. "LenaCorinne Grace Doughtry. Her dad worked with me on the police force. If 11-year-olds knew the definition of best friends forever? Carl and Lena Corinne were the dictionary example. Sometimes it was scary, how much time they spent together. We always thought they would get tired of each other or get torn apart due to some alien comic stuff, but they never did. Before all this, I pictured them getting married.

"Carl talked about her a lot in the first few months I was with him, but it was almost like he didn't remember her. Guess not. And would you look at that?" Rick gestures to the two in the backseat. "He's still the brother. I just- I don't know. She's so different."

"We all are," Sasha chimes in, staring straight ahead. Rick closes his eyes and tries to picture anything from his life before, but only comes up with fragments of memories, snapshots of the past. His eyes return to the sunset, the last light of day giving the sky a mix of purples, pinks, and golds.

"I know."

….

At the sound of gates opening, Lena stirs from a disturbingly comfortable sleep. The sky is dark and dotted with stars and silence. Carl shifts in the seat and cracks his eye open, sleepily gazing out of the window to Alexandria. In the darkness, as the rusted truck slides into the grounds, Lena spots a sign.

" _Alexandria. Mercy for the lost, vengeance for the plunderers."_

Houses with little burning lights inside stand in rows, looking like a homey little neighborhood that had Saturday barbeque and kids on bikes. It probably would have been if this hadn't happened. It would still be a model suburban welcome… If. Rick, Sasha, and Carl unbuckle, while Lena presses herself into the seat, not wanting to get out. A small crowd had gathered, including an Asian man with his arm around a pregnant woman holding a baby. Her chocolate colored hair is cut short and her face is warm with a smile. A man with fiery red hair and a beard goes to hug Sasha and she falls into it. Rick swaggers up to the baby in the pregnant girl's arms and smiles, whispering and the baby coos. As Carl steps out, he turns around and stares at Lena expectantly with a hand outstretched.

"It's okay. We don't bite."

Lena nods and ignores the hand, stepping out onto the concrete and feeling the weight of many eyes on her. Some reach for their guns, all tense up. Rick backs up, the baby in his arms playing with his hair. "She's okay. We know her."

"This is Lena," Carl starts, introducing her to the group. "She's my bes-,"

"Friend," Lena cuts him off, giving him a cold look. "Old acquaintances, same difference, so it doesn't matter."

Rick lift both eyebrows in surprise and gnaws on his lips, absentmindedly stroking his daughter's fine hair. Maggie steps forward and smiles.

"I'm Maggie, this is my husband, Glenn. A pleasure."

Lena nods, softening her expression. Rick shakes himself out of his thoughts and joins the two women. "Maggie, could you take her to your house and get her a shower? We can deal with housing later." Maggie gives a curt nod and gestures for Lena to follow her. When out of the watchful eyes of the settlement, Lena feels much more relaxed as they walk down the streets to a white two-story. Maggie walks with her hand resting absentmindedly on her stomach, her steps slightly heavy. Lena shoots for conversation with the lady who seemed so nice. "So," her voice comes out quietly and she clears her throat. "So, how do you like it here?"

Maggie throws a warm glance at her, before sweeping her eyes across the houses. "I love it. It's safe, it's welcoming. We have food and I have my family."

Lena's jaw drops. "Your family is here?" She can't keep the shock out of her voice. Apparently, this girl didn't know how lucky she was, to have her family still alive.

"Not my blood. They all died." Maggie adopts a far-away look, full of sadness and longing, but quickly smiles. "My family. Glenn, Rick, Carl…All of them. I guess we've been through so much together. How could we not be family?"

Lena shrugs, eyes trained on the small rocks and twigs lining the sidewalk.

"Right here." Maggie turns and walks up to the large house. The inside is something from an old dream. Couches, actual lamps, cool air. Lena gulps at the memory of months, years without that. Maggie leads her to the bathroom, a hall from the living room. She turns, smiling. "There's a towel in there. Yell for me when you're done and I'll get you some clothes."

Lena smiles and nods. "Thank you." She begins to shut the wooden door, when a slender hand stops her.

"Right is hot, left is cold."

Lena laughs slightly and nods, thanking the woman and shutting the door. Her attention turns to a huge mirror and shower, a toilet situated in between. She reaches for the towel on a rack and smiles, balling her hand into a fist and engulfing the fuzzy material. "Wow," she whispers softly, in complete awe at the luxury of a nice towel. (#justapocalypsethings) Moving to the shower, Lena opens a glass door to reveal tiled wall and a shower handle. She moves a shaky hand to the handle and begins to turn right, a flow of water starting to trickle from a spout near the ceiling. Lena closes the door once the water is at full flow and lets it warm up. In front of the mirror, which is beginning to steam up, Lena strips herself of her dirty clothes, the grime and blood showing on her skin. There's no question that she stinks, not having a shower in God knows how long and her rationed diet showed. Cuts and scrapes dot her body and her oily hair falls, split ends touching just below her chest.

Once the steam gets to be a bit more intense, Lena opens the door once again and reaches a hand into the flow of water. Almost to the point of boiling, the water burns her hand in the best way possible. She inhales and steps all the way in, letting herself adjust to the temperature. The water pours on her, trailing off of her fingertips in thin tendrils. Lena closes her eyes, reveling in the feeling of hot water. It soaks her hair, turning it about three shades darker and dried blood flakes off, some of it hers, some of it not. For a few moments, she stands, letting the water engulf her, washing away all of the memories of hunger and fear out there in the woods. Dark, cold, death always at your footstep…

Lena reaches for a bar of soap and rubs it on her arms and legs vigorously, rubbing it to form soapy bubbles. The white washes down the drain, a new brown color following it. She reaches for a shampoo bottle that feels half-way full. The label reads either "Hawaiian Breeze" or "Hamheld Sneeze". Lena decides it's the first one. It smells of flowers, the kind that bloom for about two weeks in the middle of the summer, and some sort of berry.

After using the last bit of conditioner in the next bottle (she would apologize for it later), she finds, to her delight, a razor. All morals aside, she begins to work on her legs, dragging the blades up continuously.

Once the job is done, she brings the soap bar across her body once more, feeling her skin going red from the heat. A sigh comes from her as she turns the water off, disappointment in her veins. She grabs the towel and dries her hair as much as she can, and then wraps it around her body. She hesitates and knocks on the door. "M-Maggie?" Silence ensues. Lena stands, air drying her body and shivering. A knock on the door makes her jump to open it, letting Maggie in.

"Sorry," she says worriedly, "I had to get to where Enid was staying. I think her clothes would fit you." She hands me a stack of clothes with a pair of sneakers on top. The pants are simple jeans, white-washed at the time of sale and a black sweater sits on top of them. Socks, underwear, and a bra rest at the top. Lena smiles and grabs the pile. Maggie nods, closing the door and leaving Lena to get dressed. The jeans fit well enough, though this Enid must be small. They fit tight on Lena's thinned form. The sweater goes on well, as does everything else. The sneakers are a size to big, but Lena isn't one to complain.

As she steps out of the bathroom into the cool air of the house, Maggie smiles and the drops her head sheepishly. "Sorry it doesn't really match."

Lena cocks her head, eyebrow raised. "Who here am I trying to impress?"

"I like you!" Maggie exclaims, bursting out into a fit of laughter. She quiets, nodding towards the window. "In all seriousness, dinner is in a little bit. Rick wants to get you introduced to everyone."

Lena's happiness fades. "Yay," she mutters with no enthusiasm.

"They're a good bunch. You'll like them, I swear." She begins to walk to the door and Lena follows, wrapping her arms around herself as she steps into the night. The air had taken on a chill and the wind was biting through the holes of her sweater.

"So," Maggie starts, "What's up with you and Carl? You seem to have a bad history."

"Well, they were best friends."

"They?" Maggie's face shows confusion.

"Him and I. I was eleven when this started. I went out there, I died out there, and I was born out there. So, Carl? I don't know him. End of story." I brush a strand of damp hair out of my face and glance over the Maggie. She opens her mouth to reply, but is interrupted by a voice from behind.

"Maggie!" We turn to see Glenn, slightly out of breath with his hands on his knees. "Rick thought it would be-be nice if Lena gets a-a-a good introduction. Dinner is in that field tonight. Somethin' about a bonfire," Glenn stutters, still trying to catch his breath. Maggie laughs and steps forward, grabbing his hand.

"You alright?" She asks, only half joking. Glenn nods slightly.

"Yeah. Wow, it's a real run, though, from the field to here."

Maggie flashes a warm smile and squeezes her husband's hand, fingers laced together in a careful net.

An image flashes in my mind, making me slow. A small hand, going blue from the cold curled around a slightly larger one with the same complexion. The small one holds on desperately, shaking slightly. _Her._

I fight back the feelings, repressing the thoughts that would make the tears finally fall. _In, out, in out, in out, in, out…_

"You okay, darling?" Up ahead, Maggie turns, concern filling her bright eyes.

 _Out._ "I'm good." I speed up, falling in step with the pair.


End file.
